


In the Mood

by Jain



Category: Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Community: yuletide, M/M, POV First Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:12:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/pseuds/Jain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relationships are difficult. A relationship in which one of the members is incorporeal, even more so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Mood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Summercloud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summercloud/gifts).



Surprisingly, ghosts can actually get naked. (Well, it was a surprise to _me_ , at least, and given the peculiarities of my education, not to mention my longterm partnership with a real non-living, non-breathing ghost, I'm guessing there aren't many people in this world who know any better.)

The problem is, there's not much you or they can do about it once they've stripped. My hand passes right through Bob no matter what part of him I'm aiming for or how visible it is. Bob doesn't have the same problem...but that's more a matter of geography than anatomy. He can cross his arms--or touch his dick--but it doesn't mean he can feel any of it.

At first, we tried mutual naked times despite the limitations. We thought it would be more intimate, I guess.

We were wrong. There's something really disconcerting about a guy with absolutely nothing happening down below watching you as you touch yourself in creative ways, and no amount of telling yourself, "It's not me, it's just his body (or the lack thereof)," can make you feel better.

The second time we had sex, I'd closed my eyes for a moment to try to get more in the mood, picturing Bob's body flushed and hard, my hand wrapped my own reluctant erection. I was just about to see if viewing the actual Bob was going to be as much of an icebath as I feared, when Bob said, "Harry," and I opened my eyes to find that he was clothed in head-to-toe black once more, a regretful expression on his face. "Please stop."

My hand froze. After an uncomfortable moment, I fumbled for the blankets and pulled them over my lap. The look on Bob's face promised a conversation that I didn't want to endure naked.

Sure enough, the next words out of his mouth were, "I fear that we may have been premature in embarking on a physical relationship. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that you're finding this as...insufficient as I am."

I couldn't answer right away; Bob's admission had left me speechless in the worst way possible, a horrible feeling growing in my stomach. I couldn't say that Bob was entirely wrong: I _did_ regret the lost chance for actual sex rather than exhibitionist masturbation, and I missed cuddling and long, leisurely makeouts. But the absence of those things hadn't been a dealbreaker for me.

Not that it mattered. The worst part of Bob's statement wasn't that he'd picked up on my reservations, but that he had his own. 'Insufficient' for Bob wouldn't mean sex, though I'm sure he missed that, too; he'd known going in that that wasn't in the cards for him. 'Insufficient' for him could only mean _me_. The specter of Winifred hung over us (though not literally; too bad for Bob). I'd thought that eleven centuries after he'd lost the love of his life, Bob might be ready to try finding a love of his death. Apparently that had been optimistic of me.

"Sorry," I said, trying to cram all the layers of meaning into the word that I could.

Bob smiled a little wryly. "It's hardly your fault, Harry. This is simply an unfortunate circumstance, and we should face that instead of continuing this charade."

I winced inwardly at the word choice, but tried not to let it show. I couldn't blame him for how he felt.

"Friends?" he offered.

"Always," I said, not even having to think about it.

Bob nodded. "Good. Now, I think I might like a little time alone in my skull, if you won't be needing me further this evening."

My inward wince became a cringe; Bob _hated_ his skull, and anything that turned it from a prison to a sanctuary had to be pretty powerful stuff. At least I knew my facility for unfortunate breakups hadn't left me.

"No, go right ahead," I said. "Take as much time as you need."

Bob nodded to me once more, and then he slipped away in a trail of smoke. I fell back against my pillows with a long sigh. Well, that had sucked.

* * *

"Absolutely not," Morgan said, in a tone that brooked no objection.

For once, he wasn't talking to me; I'd stepped out to use the bathroom and was only now returning to the front room. Stopping to listen in wasn't the most polite thing to do, but I'd had Bob eavesdrop on my private conversations often enough that I didn't feel any guilt about returning the favor.

"Warden," Bob said politely. "I beg you to reconsider. I have proven myself to the Council on several occasions, including times in which I risked my own continued existence. All I ask--"

"Is a thing that I cannot, under any circumstances, grant you," Morgan concluded. There was a heavy pause. "You did terrible things for love before," he said, his voice almost gentle. "I cannot be the means of granting you the same temptation."

"No, of course not," Bob said wearily. "I understand your position."

I imitated a statue for a little while, more than a bit shocked by what I'd just overheard, and then slipped back into my kitchen to pour coffee for Morgan and me. It wouldn't do my rapidly pounding heart any good, but I needed the mundane domestic ritual to distract myself from thoughts of the conversation Bob and I needed to have just as soon as we'd finished saving the world again.

* * *

My chair felt like heaven and hell combined. On the one hand, it was pressing against my bruises in a highly unpleasant way; on the other, it was keeping me from falling onto the considerably harder floor. Bob was hovering, a worried expression on his face. I was fine, though...or would be in a few days. For now I was alive, which was a reasonable alternative to fine. And we had unfinished business to attend to.

"I overheard you and Morgan talking," I said.

Bob stilled. "Yes, well, that is one of the many difficulties inherent to being tied to my skull. It's nearly impossible to avoid eavesdroppers when one is incapable of going anywhere."

I nodded sympathetically.

"I...ah...assume you heard the conclusion to our little chat, then."

"Yeah, I did."

Bob sighed. "I am sorry, Harry. I'd hoped...but evidently those hopes were in vain."

I shook my head. "The part I don't understand is, how did you get the idea that I only wanted you if I could touch you."

"Oh, please," Bob said. "I may be desperate, but I'm not so far gone that I couldn't see your discomfort with a...a passionless relationship."

"Not passionless," I snapped. Bob turned a surprised look on me, and it was my turn to sigh. "Sorry. Just, that's not how it felt to me, and your suggesting that that's all we had rubs me the wrong way, okay?"

"How would you characterize it, then?" Bob asked, sounding frustrated.

"Can we hold off on that question a second?" I said. "I just gotta know something first."

Bob spread his hands in a 'bring it on' gesture.

"Did _you_ like watching me in bed, or was it just a chore for you?"

Bob's eyes gleamed, and I knew the answer before he said it. "I liked it very much, Harry."

A tender place inside me that had been feeling a little battered as of late quieted. "Okay. I can work with that."

"How?" Bob said. "My...limitations are just as they were the last time we were intimate, and you didn't care for the experience then. Don't bother telling me otherwise; I know it's true."

"Yeah, okay," I admitted. "We maybe need to work on the sex a little. But I'd rather that than break up with you."

"You agreed to break up readily enough when I suggested it," Bob said, and only someone who knew him as well as I did would hear the hurt in his voice.

I shook my head. "Only because I thought you'd changed your mind."

Bob's eyes softened. "Regarding our relationship's viability, yes, I had. Regarding my feelings for you, never."

"Hey, that's the only part I care about, okay?" I said. Bob nodded his agreement. "And we'll figure out the rest of it. Just...next week, maybe. Sometime when I'm not a walking bruise."

"I look forward to it," Bob said, and I imagined that I could see an analytical light in his eye: the same light I saw sometimes when we were working on an exciting line of magical research together. I grinned, despite the fact that smiling pulled at my cut lip. This was going to be fun.


End file.
